It is
by ILM
Summary: This is what it is - and what it isn't... - when things finally work for them.


I could tinker with this one forever - so I'm forcing myself to stop!

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. Even after a whole 5 days of begging.**

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When it happens, it isn't like either of them expect.

He has always expected it to be fierce, passionate and most likely during a row. That line between anger and fervour seems to blur for him and he worries that his only remaining option to quiet her will be his mouth.

She has always expected it to be emotional, a moment of relief after turmoil. Risk is still not inconsequential for them. With the danger they embroil themselves in, she thinks that one day it will break them, forcing the carefully maintained smokescreen to dissolve.

When it happens, it is a slow, considerate sharing of words that both recognise are important.

He plans it and she accepts it. It's the right time for them now. It isn't blotted by anger or tumult and neither fears that relief is what drives them.

He forgets now those earlier times he wished he had said something. He knows that chaos and blood and frantic searches and adrenaline-inducing fear would not have allowed the enmeshing serenity that falls when he speaks. This is for the two of them, not for the outsiders they allow to penetrate their world. He knows now that there was a reason it never came naturally to his lips before.

She eclipses her acquiescent compliance with his silence with her new desire to vocalise. Her words are not of fear or of apprehension, or the frenzied revelations of lost chances. Instead, she whispers feeling from her eyes, her face flushing as she recognises his intent, her hand sliding down his arm to reassure him of her response even before her voice returns. She knows now that there was a reason it never came naturally to his lips before.

It isn't a clash of mouths and bodies and a disregard for surroundings. It is the slow skim of his fingers over her back as his arm loops around her. It is the folding of her hand within his as she presses herself against him, content, this time, to ignore those 'biological imperatives' that she still thinks she'll bring up just to tease him, because she can't help adoring his awkwardness. It is the brush of his lips against her hair, full of his undeclared aspirations for them, and the catch of her breath as she realises the sensation.

It is the low husk of his voice as he can't stop telling her how long he has wanted her, no matter how clichéd he thinks the words are. It is the laughter in her voice as she tries to mock him for not having the nerve earlier, and the amusement in his wagging finger as he reminds her that he will always be able to claim credit for creating this new stage in their relationship. It is the glare in her eyes as she realises he's right and the only half-joking huff with which she accepts that she'll probably have to listen to him assert his ownership of the change more than once in the near future.

It isn't uncontrolled, reckless movement. It is the shift of their bond as his eyes catch hers and her lips soothingly traverse his. It is the gradual heat of reciprocated need as she slides closer, his hands snaring material aside, and the cooling touch of his trembling fingers on her back. It is the sweep of her nails through the hair at his neck and the answering sigh at the join of their mouths.

And despite her uncharacteristic desire to retain what she thinks of as the purity of their connection, it is the physical longing that both have been aware of too long to ignore. It is the awe of his touch as his hands trace her curves and the unyielding firmness of his body as her fingers grip, defying the unexpected quiver in her legs. It is her sudden shyness that she can't explain and tries to overcome by pressing forward, only to be stilled by his patient, understanding hands as he hinders her quickening pace. It is the fusion that he once tried to elucidate but knew then that he would prove to her. And she knows early that it is the surge to a pinnacle nobody else can push her to, his breath glazing her neck as he nips her, the sting of her nails on his back only serving as stimulus for the merciless compulsion assembling inside him.

It is a time that has aligned for them flawlessly, the links between two lifetimes catching hands.

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**This one has been harder to produce and I'm genuinely interested to know if it works or not, so please be assured your review is valued if you have a moment to give one. However, as usual, feel free to simply read without pressure if you prefer!**


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